


Bend (or Break)

by MissyyMess



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Harems, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-08-29 10:41:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16742476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissyyMess/pseuds/MissyyMess
Summary: After an accident blasts the 5 boys unconscious, the bad guy who "rescues" them decides to add Quatre and Wufei to his harem.In order to get through it, Quatre ends up using his Newtype ability to influence Wufei more than he probably should.





	Bend (or Break)

Quatre wakes at a sudden, rude jolt. He's uncomfortable. That's the first thing he notices. He's laying face down, his stomach and chest taking the brunt of his weight, as he lays against a hard, wooden surface. The second thing he notices is that there's not much he can do about it. He's restrained, hogtied. He's also blindfolded and gagged. The wood beneath him rumbles steadily, and there's a familiar sound of dirt crunching under wheels. He's in a wagon. Quatre can practically smell the desert around him, the dirt and the heat and impossible expanse of it. 

This is not good.

He shifts, testing the strength and give of his restraints. It's rope, thick, and tied tight enough to make his hands and feet tingle from lack of blood. He can to move his legs a bit, though, and shifts until he feels a warm body on his right. He taps against it four times. It taps back three. He exhales in almost tangible relief, resting his cheek against the ground: Trowa. Although maybe it'd be kinder of him to wish that he'd been left at the site of the explosion, safe from whatever comes next – but no. At high noon with this temperature, that would mean certain death. 

He recognizes Duo's sneeze about a minute later. A sudden jab comes from his left side, muffled and angry protests as the person, unsuccessfully, begins fighting his bonds. Quatre almost smiles; Wufei has woken up. 

His vague, constant knowledge of Heero is flickers weakly, barely enough to tell Quatre that Heero survived the explosion. Has Heero escaped capture? Or is he hogtied and unconscious ten inches away? It's not fair of Quatre but an uncontrollable part of his mind has started to bank on the fact that Heero is indestructible, and he isn't worried about Heero's well-being as much as sure that he's fine, and calculating the likelihood of him to assisting in their eventual escape.

The wagon jolts again, going from dirt road to pavement. They're slowing down, having obviously reached their destination, and both Trowa and Wufei stiffen beside Quatre, bracing themselves. 

The doors open and they're hoisted out of the wagon unceremoniously, carried over shoulders and under arms. There's some difficulty when it comes to Wufei, and then again with who has to be Heero, or Duo. There are a few grunts of pain from their kidnappers and a lot of shuffling feet, but eventually they continue, out of the heat and into a massive, air conditioned space.

The footfalls of their captors echo loudly and crisply, and Quatre starts to quietly panic, the threat level of their situation rising steadily. There's no check-in, no quiet murmuring, no music, none of the steady ebb and flow of a workplace – this is obviously a private dwelling, in the middle of the desert, built by someone indulgent enough for marble floors, marble walls and ceilings. 

This is not good. This is not good. 

"The small ones go here. The bigger two are going to the kitchen for now."

Not good, at all. They're dropped against the wall, and Quatre blinks in surprise as his blindfold is suddenly yanked off his face, taking a few pieces of knotted hair with it. 

A large, fantastically ugly man is staring at him. Appraising him. He tilts Quatre's face up by the chin, turns his head this way and that. He nods, apparently satisfied, then moves on. 

Quatre's not surprised to see Heero and Wufei with him. 'The Small Ones.' They haven't quite managed to catch up with Duo and Trowa, who have spent the past year becoming lanky and fluid and big handed in bursts. He sends a silent thanks to the universe for this, for anything that resulted in Trowa going to the kitchens, rather than having his chin lifted, sneered at, appraised.

"This one took quite a beating to get him down," Ugly is saying in Arabic, peering down his nose at Heero. "And I don't think we would've managed it if we hadn't caught him after roasted in the sun for who knows how long."

"Think he's too dangerous?"

This is asked by a smaller man, one with a long, smooth scar that almost looks ceremonial. They both stare at Heero critically a moment longer, Heero's expression perfectly blank. 

"We won't risk it," Ugly decides. "Send him to the stables. If they manage to tame him, maybe."

Stables. Horses. Fantastic. Quatre watches Heero hoisted back into the air, about to be directly delivered to his means of escape, and Quatre tries to calculate how deep into the desert they've gone, how long of a trip it is by night – four days? Three if Heero tries to ride into the early hours of the day. Three days, Quatre can manage three days.

"Now, this one." Ugly narrows his eyes at Wufei, who glares up at him hatefully. "Strange, isn't he? Charming, I suppose. But strange."

Scar shrugs. "He likes Asian boys. Says they're more docile."

Ugly nods, eyes darting between Wufei and Quatre. "If nothing else, he'll be charmed by the contrast. Alright. These two." 

They're lifted again, and blindfold free, Quatre gets a good look around an overly lavish hallway, ornate frames with ostentatious paintings inside. Drapes, sculptures, vases. He was right. This is definitely the home of someone with something to prove to the universe at large, and again, a feeling of dread settles over him, threat level rising impossibly higher. 

"Here we go," Scar grunts, dropping them in a massive bathroom, one that reminds Quatre of a groomers, with multiple shower nozzles mounted to the wall and drains in the floor. 

Quatre braces his dignity for a severe beating. 

Scar leaves, and Wufei immediately renews his struggles, twisting his shoulders as he tries to wriggle free. The ropes aren't budging. Quatre and Wufei exchange a look and slowly maneuver closer to one another, but the angle of their hands – up between their shoulder blades – leave them pretty useless at untying anything, even as they both attempt twisting to the side, lifting up as far as the ropes allow.

There's a sudden Mandarin swear - Wufei's managed to force the knot of the gag out of his mouth. He keeps it in place, pinched between his front teeth as he quietly hisses out a question, panting from his efforts.

"You understand them?"

Quatre nods. 

Wufei glances at the direction Heero was carried of in. "Interrogation?" 

Quatre shakes his head no. If only information was all they were after. But Wufei doesn't know any better than to nod in relief. 

"Allied?" 

Quatre shakes his head. No, from what Quatre could tell, the explosion Heero triggered did the trick – eliminated the Allied target they'd been originally sent after.

Wufei looks confused. "What are they after? Do they know who we are?"

No, they don't, not as pilots and not as Preventers. Wufei looks even more confused, eyebrows drawing down in concentration. Understandably. Except for being placed in a bathroom, the treatment they've received, the separating into pairs; this would seem like a run of the mill interrogation. Quatre sighs, and isn't sure if he should wish his gag was off or not. How would he even begin to explain this? How much explanation would Wufei even need? 

It could just be rumors – the surviving clans of southern China are notoriously private, let alone the one that took up a colony in L5 – but as far as Quatre's heard, the warriors of Dragon clan practice chastity as a virtue. Aside from an arranged marriage that Quatre is reasonably sure was never consummated, Wufei hasn't given him any reason to doubt this. Wufei and Heero are the only Gundam pilots who haven't made a single comment, or glance, of any kind of romantic interest. Then again, there was Relena. So only Wufei, then.

The bathroom door opens. 

" – won't have to do much shaving, then?"

"See for yourself."

Wufei and Quatre glare at Scar, who's brought a friend. It's a woman, and she carries a knife on her hip. Quatre can practically feel Wufei vibrating at his side, eying the weapon like a child taunted with candy.

"Mmhmm. Very nice. Do we know the ages?"

"Your guess is as good as mine," Scar says.

She chuckles. "My guess is _not legal_ but how much does that mean? They certainly are lovely, though. They couldn't have been out there long, that pale one is hardly even pink from sun."

"I try to make your job as easy as possible."

"And I am eternally grateful," she says. "Now. Will drugging be necessary?"

"Going by their violent friend, most definitely," says Scar. 

At the sight of a needle filled with an ominous fluid, both Quatre and Wufei tense. There's no escaping it, though, all Quatre can do is flinch away when the needle pierces his neck. Wufei scrambles and ends up falling on his side, actually growling when she gets him. 

"There we are," she coos. She quickly slices through the ropes, and Quatre's limbs all but tumble free, and he winces at the sharp, biting sensation of blood rushing to his aching fingers and toes. 

Wufei struggles to lift himself, but only manages to quiver like an unsteady bowstring before dropping. The drug has left Quatre's muscles spasming and weak. Even lifting his hand is a feat, and only briefly. 

The drug, thankfully, also makes the _preparations_ a blur. There's a humiliating bath, scented in spices from the area, hair and body thoroughly scrubbed, and what little body hair Quatre has is sliced away. They fill him with fluids and rinse him out, a practice that has become somewhat commonplace in his sexual relationship with Trowa, but is staggeringly violating to have preformed on him, held in place over the bin as he helplessly voids himself. He feels nearly lightheaded with shame in the aftermath, too helpless to even curl in on his body, simply laying as they left him. Poor Wufei seems shell shocked, staring off into the distance, expression of cold, unmoving marble. 

Wufei's obviously doing his best to block out his surroundings, refusing to assume a docile position, but that's when Quatre knows. 

Wufei is going to break. Being wound as tight as a piano string is good in some respects, but it also leaves you brittle. Where Quatre knows how to bend, Wufei will break. Heaven, is he glad Trowa was put in the kitchens. 

" _Ah!_ Are these my new boys?"

The man who has just walked into the bathroom is massive. He's truly gigantic in every sense of the word, and for some reason Quatre is fixated on his forearms, which are quite possibly wider than Quatre's own torso, hairy, and flexing. He's wearing nothing but a towel and beams down at the both of them like an indulgent pet owner.

Which, Quatre supposes, is exactly what he is.

"Yes, Master Ubayy, they're almost ready for you, sir."

"Well then, I think I'll take this one for a bit of company in the bath," Ubayy's voice is booming and echoes in the cramped space. He bends down and hoists Wufei up easily, over his shoulder, and Wufei stares in open horror as he's carried off, around a corner.


End file.
